"Ever the sheer cliffs rose beside,where birds of carrion sat and cried;and chasms black and smoking yawned,whence writhing serpent-shapes were spawned;until at last in that huge gloomheavy as overhanging doom,that weighs on Thangorodrim’s footlike thunder at the mountain’s root,they came, as to a sombre courtwalled with great towers, fort on fortof cliffs embattled. To that last plainthat opens, abysmal and inane,before the final topless wallof Bauglir’s immeasurable hall,whereunder looming awful waitsthe gigantic shadow of his gates."